The Scandalous Lady Sandford (Lost Ladies of London 3)

“A lady of your worth could buy a hundred more.” Doyle wrapped his thick, chubby fingers around the chain and tugged. The fine links snapped. The chain slipped from her neck. For a second, her heart stopped beating.

“Give it back to me. It is worthless to you.” Lillian held back the tears.

“Worthless? Nothing is worthless to a man with an empty belly.” Doyle shoved the locket into his trouser pocket, and Lillian knew she would not rest until the locket was back in her possession. “Now sit down and keep your mouth shut.” Doyle pushed her to the ground next to Mary.

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Mary whispered. “It’s my fault. If only I’d kept to my own business instead of snooping around the heathland at night. But I wanted to help Mackenzie.”

“You have done nothing wrong.” Lillian shot daggers at the blackguard as he took Ursula aside and repeated the instructions. “But mark my words. They will both pay for what they’ve done.”

Chapter Eighteen

“God damn it!” Vane dabbed the poultice on his swollen knuckles and winced. “What the hell has your housekeeper put in this? It smells like rotten intestines.”

“It’s a concoction of herbs and oats.” Fabian bit back a chuckle. “We’re to have the intestines for supper. Pirates believe they’re a delicacy.”

“Well, if anyone should know it is you.”

Fabian poured two glasses of brandy. He pushed one across the wooden table to Vane, took the other and sat on the bench opposite.

“Is that any way to speak to one’s brother?”

Vane stared down his nose and growled. “You’re not my brother but merely the fool who stole my sister away and somehow persuaded her to marry you.” He gulped a mouthful of brandy and hissed to calm the heat in his throat.

“Had you the decency to offer your assistance in my search for Estelle, we would not be sitting here.” The comment caused Fabian’s chest to constrict. A life without Lillian would be a miserable one indeed.

“So let me understand you. It is my fault you kidnapped an innocent woman. It is my fault your sister ran away and drowned when The Torrens sank.” Vane paused and closed his eyes briefly before releasing a weary sigh. “Everything is my fault.”

A heavy silence hung in the air.

“You should have gone after her.” Hell, he should have done something. “Estelle loved you, and you turned your back on her the moment things became difficult.”

Vane’s penetrating gaze spoke of a cold, merciless anger. “And you think you have the full measure of the situation?”

“What other explanation is there?”

“Perhaps I am the one who was overlooked.” Pain flashed across the cool marble planes of Vane’s face and vanished with one quick shake of the head. “From my investigation, it seems Estelle met another gentleman in Dover. Together, they sailed away to France to start a new life.”

“You’re lying.” Fabian’s pulse pounded in his nec

k. “Estelle cared for no one but you.”

“What the hell have I got to gain by lying? I have nothing to prove to you. I’m going to kill you, anyway.”

“And make your sister a widow? I think not.” Fabian drained the contents of his glass and refilled it from the decanter. “Besides, regardless of what you may think, my sister is alive.” Nothing would convince him otherwise.

Vane sucked in a breath. “Then why waste time kidnapping my sister when you should be out looking for your own?”

A stabbing pain in Fabian’s chest forced him to jump up off the bench. Resting his weight on his knuckles, he leant across the table. “I have scoured the streets of London and Paris. I have knocked on doors, harassed strangers in the street. I have followed women, imagining they were her. My eyes convince me I see her ebony hair and kind face, only for my head to berate me for being a blind fool.”

“You do not have to tell me what that is like.” Vane’s hard tone sliced through the air. “But I will never forgive you for using Lillian.”

“For using her? I love her, damn it!” Fabian dropped onto the bench. The love he spoke of filled his heart. “She is the only woman I have ever wanted.” It was a love nurtured long ago, a treasure buried beneath bitterness and grief.

Vane stared at him. “You think you’re the only man ever to feel that way?” A cynical snort escaped. “It doesn’t change the fact that what you did was wrong.”

“It was.” Fabian could not deny he’d acted foolishly. “Wrong and damnably selfish. But I was not thinking clearly at the time.”

“And are you thinking clearly now?”